


Howl

by mymoony (IsntSheLovely)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19278274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsntSheLovely/pseuds/mymoony
Summary: Remus loses his way after Sirius leaves him, but star-crossed lovers always find their way back to each other eventually.





	Howl

No matter what anyone said when the rumours inevitably came up, it was undeniable that Remus and Sirius had had an interesting timeline. They had spent two long years pining secretly for each other unbeknownst to either during their years at Hogwarts, and four blissful ones tightly in one another’s arms. Deeply in love and disgustingly romantic, all amidst a war.

Love was the only thing that ground any of them in those final days; their friendship for one another and the more private love they shared between secret glances, furtive smiles and late at night under the covers. Everything about Remus and Sirius’ relationship was intense. Their intensity and passion between the sheets was particularly unrivaled, if they made it that far. Much to the disgust of whoever was unlucky enough to witness them going at it, a lot of the time it was more like on the kitchen bench, or the bathroom floor, or against the front door, or in a toilet at a pub if they were especially desperate for each other. Their love was the only thing that ground them, and brought them back together time and time again. An unbreakable vow, a golden string attaching their hearts and souls, wrenching arteries apart torturously one by one each time they weren’t in the same room or fighting on different battlefields for the same side, and connecting their wrists and hips and hearts, twining them ever more intertwined whenever they were together. Their love for one another was exquisite, and James and Lily would tease them for how domestic and predictable and downright lovely they were, until everything started to fall apart. Remus would look back to that time only when he was halfway to drunk these days, and chuckle darkly to disguise the gut-wrenching hurt he still felt as he remembered how the war had broken even the most unbreakable bonds. He remembered when Sirius began to suspect him as the one who was betraying their friends. Of course, now Remus knew that Sirius hadn’t suspected him at all. After all, he had known very intimately indeed who was going to betray James and Lily, hadn’t he?

He never even confronted Remus out loud, the coward, just shot him mistrustful looks when he returned from missions, unable to explain where he had been on orders from Dumbledore, thinner and wearier each time. The only closeness they retained was when they would fall into bed together at the end of their respective missions for the Order, fucking without really speaking to each other, the only words on their tongues each other’s names. They would simply go through the motions, just two bodies. The only language they still knew how to spill their secrets to one another was through touch alone.

Remus returned from his last mission half-starved, unshaven and in dire need of Sirius’ hands through his hair and lips on his. He’d needed his Sirius so, so badly. Even drunk, Remus remembered every unfortunate detail of that night. 

But Sirius hadn’t been there. Later, after Remus knew what had happened that night, he knew it wasn’t personal that Sirius had left him. His boyfriend had had other things on his mind that night, like how he was going to murder his three best friends, and leave his lover for dead while he was at it as well.

He could never really quite believe that Sirius had done it, even after all these years – he supposed that’s what love was, really. Refusing to believe that someone who held you and loved you and breathed life into you could extinguish it so quickly; so easily in someone else. But there wasn’t really any other explanation. He had to have done it, there was no other way. But Remus’ heart never really believed that, the bloody traitorous thing. He found it so hard to come to terms with the fact that his lover, _his Sirius_ , had done those things, but there was the evidence, right there in the burnt out shell of a muggle street, a single finger in a snuffbox.

The thought of touching Sirius again should make Remus sick to his stomach, but that golden string tying their hearts together was still there, and he could still feel his phantom touch when he was in bed some nights, alone and drunk. He had tried fucking other people but that’s all it was; fucking. With Sirius it had been _everything_ , the intensity of it had been so overwhelming they had self destructed in the end. It was inevitable, he supposed. You aren’t supposed to love another person so much.

He stopped going to Order meetings after a few months of Lily, James, Peter, and Sirius’ death. Only Sirius wasn’t dead, not really. But it felt like he was, now. It was easier to process that way. Remus lost his job with the Ministry shortly after because he simply stopped turning up. He couldn’t bear being alone in his apartment with only ghosts in the walls, so he started filling his days with pubs and random strangers and drinking, and the occasional bar fight should he hear something foul. A drunken vigilante of sorts. One time he actually got locked up for the night in the local muggle watchhouse near his flat. He laughed harshly from the cell around a badly split lip, knowing he should be far more careful. If he had been there on a full moon night there would have been a fair few less prisoners there in the morning and a lot of explaining to do. Though it would probably help with the rising costs of the prison system through suburban England. Thatcher might thank him, really.

He knew he was self-destructing, and he knew he should be far more careful, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be careful about anything now. Merlin knows Sirius never was. He’d promised to be careful with Moony’s heart and look what happened there.

Remus had never been big on the Firewhiskey when he was at Hogwarts. That was James and Sirius; forever trying to outdrink each other while Peter sipped butterbeers and Remus didn’t have any preference, really. He hated the burn in his throat when it went down, and the burn in his head the day after. He hated how it dulled his memory of nights with Sirius, lifting him up to fuck against the wall, Sirius moaning brokenly with his legs wrapped tightly around Remus’ waist and whispering litanies of lovely, mellifluous things in Remus’ ear. Now though, Firewhiskey was the only thing that got him through the day. His stash was hidden in the leaky cupboard under the sink, right behind the mop and the cat food. He’d lied to Madame Rosmerta at the local pub about needing it for an event he was hosting to get a bulk discount, and he had ended up with 46 bottles of the purest Firewhiskey you could get. Not that the purity mattered or that that would get him very far at all, because Remus certainly wasn’t drinking it for the taste. He was drinking it for the numbing affect it had on his body, his heart, his soul. Most nights he passed out on his threadbare couch or on his bed, strewn haphazardly across the sheets with his shoes still on. Occasionally he would half-heartedly have one out, studiously trying not to think of his former boyfriend but always seemed to end up coming to the same image, of heather grey eyes, crinkled at the sides with glee or bright with lust, and that distinctive barking, throaty laughter. Probably much the same laughter that the Aurors had heard when Sirius was arrested. He was infamous for that laughter now. The same laughter he’d had when Remus would make an acidic, biting remark that he found funny, the same laughter he’d had after he murdered a group of innocent people and condemned himself to a life in Azkaban. Remus balked at that, and suddenly felt the bile rise in his throat. He jumped up, only just making it to the bathtub and not the sink to empty the contents of his stomach. He couldn’t help but think of Sirius sometimes, when his ghost slipped through the cracks and invaded Remus’ mind no matter how much drink he plied himself with to keep him at bay, and the only solution to that was to get even drunker so he couldn’t think of anything at all.

Slowly, his friends stopped coming by to check in on him. He couldn’t remember the last time Mary had rapped loudly at his door and come in to wrench the curtains open and half carry Remus to the shower where she would stick him in, clothes and all, and make him sit there until he smelled half human again and was a fraction more sober.

“Whiskey isn’t an appropriate breakfast food, Remus Lupin,” she would tut, while turning on the kettle and the hob to make tea and boiled eggs. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. It made it easier to throw the Firewhiskey up when he drank too much if he was being honest, not having anything in his stomach except acid, and the acrid taste of regret and pain that came to him every night despite the amount he was drinking, of course. Food didn’t really have much purpose to him anymore, anyway. Not when he would think of Sirius at the breakfast table at Hogwarts, deliberately trying to rile Remus up by swirling a spoonful of honey around his lips, licking it off sensuously, grinning as he saw a blush creep it’s way up Remus’ collar to colour his cheeks. Or Sirius gently feeding him soup after a full moon, cradling him against him to his chest and stroking his hair until he fell asleep. Food didn’t mean anything at all to him anymore, after that was what it held before.

Remus was kicked out of his dingy flat a few months after his self-destruction began to take over. Apparently sleeping on your doormat after forgetting your keys at the pub and waking up smelling of piss and vomit was ‘unpleasant’ for the neighbours. He went to stay with Marlene and Dorcas for a while after he realised he had nowhere else to go. He would have been glad; if glad had been an emotion he had allowed himself to feel these days. He never liked it much at his old flat anyway. The ghost of Sirius still lay dormant in the walls, and though Remus tried to drown him each night he seemed to have learned how to swim.

A ghost of a smile crossed Remus’ face as he remembered Padfoot, paddling in the lake near James’ childhood home. Sirius was always going on about how proficient Padfoot was as a swimmer, and one day James, knowing very well that he was lying, dared him to jump in there without transforming. Sirius, arrogant bastard that he was, tossed his hair and jumped straight in, despite being quite aware that he’d never been taught to swim. James had forgotten that he wasn’t very good either, and after watching Sirius flail for a few moments, dip under and not resurface, Peter and Remus had to be the ones to jump in and save him. Sopping wet, they pulled him from the lake and he spluttered, grinning up at them. “Might need a spot of CPR there, Moonbeam, cheers,” he coughed.

“Oh shut up, you massive flirt,” James grumbled, dragging them all inside for tea. Remus shook his head, unable to resist grinning back, and while Peter and James were in the kitchen afterwards, Remus did kiss Sirius back to life, sitting in front of the fire, with warm feet and warm lips, they kissed for what felt like hours and then snuck upstairs where Sirius dropped to his knees to express his thanks for Remus’ brave act of saving him from certain drowning earlier.

“I hope you aren’t going to thank Wormy in the same way after this, P-Pads – oh, _Merlin_ – “ he moaned as Sirius’ lips encircled his cock, and then he jolted awake to find himself 28, alone in someone else’s house and sleeping next to a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey.

He sighed. He hated dreaming of Sirius. He swigged a few mouthfuls from the bottle beside him half-heartedly and sighed in anticipation of the inevitable argument that would ensue when Marlene entered the room.

“Remus, you can’t be serious, it’s half eleven in the morning.” She looked down at him with pity, and he hated that look, just hated it.

“Is it? Didn’t realise,” he slurred, half cut still and ready to go back to sleep. He knew he should really cut down, he could tell even in his constantly inebriated state that Marlene and Dorcas were getting sick of his behaviour and finding him a burden, and he rather thought that was a bit of a pattern with everyone in his life, really. Sirius got sick of him after a while too, and that’s what got him into this wretched position in the first place. He sighed and stumbled out of bed, waving off the arm Marlene brought around his waist to steady him. Her lips were pursed and she looked disappointed. Now that was an emotion he could tolerate. He was used to being a disappointment by now. Even so, he hated himself for getting in Marlene and Dorcas’ way, taking up space in their house and contributing nothing to society except lining Ogden’s pockets every night when he downed another bottle of his Firewhiskey to drink himself into a stupor.

He dreamt of Lily and James sometimes, too, when he drifted in and out of sleep. “Remus, darling,” Lily says, her warm, freckled hand on top of his. “It’s been so long, and we’re so worried about you.” James nodded in agreement.

“Mate, you need to get back out there and find someone else – Sirius isn’t the only person out there for you, you know.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he woke, recalling the dream. He knows the real James would never say that, because they all know it’s not true. There wasn’t anyone else out there for Remus. Sirius was the only person who accepted Remus for who he truly was, and loved him unconditionally, and he had betrayed him, and was gone. Remus wondered what Sirius was doing right now, maybe staring out at the same night sky, thinking about all the things he had done, and maybe regretting some of them? He didn’t even know the man anymore. He couldn’t afford to think like that, anyway. He was never coming back. It was better to just not think at all. He stalked over to the cupboard after rolling out of bed, head pounding, only to find his hidden booze emptied down the sink and a note in Marlene’s scrawling handwriting. “It’s time to start again, Remus. Go and see Dumbledore today at 2:00. He wants to speak to you.” Remus sighed. He supposed mourning someone for 11 years who wasn’t even dead was pretty pathetic.

He spent what felt like hours in the shower, letting the boiling hot water fall all over him, absolving him of the sin of loving someone who had broken his heart, broken their vows, and effectively ruined his life. Remus shaved, got dressed and started his day without having had a drop of alcohol for the first time in…well, he couldn’t actually remember how long. A few well-placed charms to lighten the dark circles under his eyes were needed, and he was surprised to see how thin he had become when his well-darned cardigan felt like it was engulfing him. He stared at himself in the mirror, haggard and thin, but almost looking like a functioning member of society. He laughed dryly. How could Sirius Black ever have loved him? Sirius had always been gorgeous, sharp cheekbones and lovely grey eyes. All Remus had to make people stare was his scars. He willed his eyes into focus. That would have to do. He had scrubbed up alright outside, but he couldn’t say the same for the state of his mind. His head was absolutely pounding, his mouth was dry and his heart was racing. He needed a drink, badly. He would go and see Dumbledore and then go via the Leaky Cauldron on the way home for a pint or two. He could stop at that. It was time he cut down on his drinking a little, anyway.

“Remus, we need someone to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position here at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, in his kind but firm voice. Remus almost laughed but Dumbledore just looked at him, unwavering and speculative over the top of his half-moon glasses.

“Pardon me, sir. But you must really be scraping the barrel to be asking me,” Remus scoffed. Dumbledore didn’t smile at that.

“Remus, I haven’t forgotten your talent for Defense during your time here at Hogwarts – even if you have,” he said sharply, and Remus blushed a little. Dumbledore must know he was wasting his life. Probably everyone did. They’d have been gossiping about him for years now – how he had become a recluse after what happened to Lily and James, how he drinks himself into a stupor every night. How he fights with random men in bars who make comments and spits at their feet when he’s done with them. How he hasn’t had sex in years since Sirius Black fucked him and then left him high and dry.

“There will always be a place for you here at Hogwarts, no matter your situation.” Remus felt his throat prickle and he stared back at Dumbledore, willing himself not to cry in his office like he was a First Year again. He didn’t think he deserved any of the kindness anyone was affording him right now. Somehow though, despite his protests, he left the room with a new job, most certainly given to him out of pity, but Marlene and Dorcas threw him a surprise dinner after finding out all the same.

They had wine with dinner but Remus wearily refused. He didn’t think it was a good idea to teach children with a big, obvious, stinking addiction to drink. He knew he couldn’t just stop at one glass, after all. One glass would get him thinking about Sirius, and two glasses would get him thinking about Sirius on his knees before him. Three would have him thinking of fucking hard into Sirius as he pulled his hair roughly and relished in hearing his gorgeous moans and how his lovely tongue wrapped around those breathy syllables, “ _Moony, oh, Moony, please.”_ No. It was safer to stop entirely, or drink enough to pass out. There was no in between that was safe anymore for Remus. Sirius still inhabited all the in-betweens.

He started his job back at Hogwarts a month later, as close to clean and sober as he could get at that point, and immediately was assaulted with a multitude of emotions. He nearly fell to the floor when he saw James Potter himself strolling into his third year Defense class, and then an overwhelming and horrible sense of guilt as he realised it was Harry, James’ son Harry, the spitting image of both of his best friends, and that he was 13 years old and he hadn’t laid eyes on him since he was one. He hadn’t thought of him in years. How selfish he had become, Remus thought to himself.

James’ son, who had James’ hair and penchant for mischief, and Lily’s gorgeous green eyes. Remus didn’t need any more torture and smiled at Dumbledore genially in the corridors, but cursed him from behind his door each evening for forgetting the tragedy he had to endure every single day he looked into Harry’s stare from his classroom.

Harry was absolutely lovely and must have heard from someone that Remus had been friends with his dad, as he became a regular in Remus’ office. Always asking for ‘help’ with his homework that he clearly didn’t need, before launching into a tirade of questions about anything and everything; most often the Marauders who Remus had to tell him about while holding back the urge to be sick every time he uttered Sirius’ name. The poor boy clearly had no father figure and Remus desperately wanted a relationship with him but also felt he was far too unqualified to be of any assistance to the poor child, and he was stuck between wanting to keep his distance or taking the boy under his wing.

He thought it would all be too much for him to bear and he was right. He stared blankly at the wall at night, hands shaking and head pounding as he resisted the urge to take a drink. Some nights he couldn’t resist at all, and he would beg Snape to brew him enough Pepper Up Potion to scull in the mornings so that he was fresh enough to teach. Snape would sneer at him as he handed it over along with his monthly Wolfsbane potion, clearly thinking he was a pathetic excuse for a teacher. For the first time ever, Remus agreed with him.

He was at the breakfast table that morning when he saw the headlines of The Daily Prophet and felt bile rise up in his throat. There was Sirius Orion Black, looking absolutely deranged and still handsome as ever, staring up at him from the front page, wide eyed, manic and screaming as he tugged uselessly against his shackles. Remus thought with rising nausea back to when he had tied Sirius up in their dorm room with his tie. How he had loved that, tugging uselessly against those shackles much like now, except Remus was there to kiss his lovely, flushed face, and now all that was waiting for him was Dementors and their kisses. Remus feels like right now he would prefer that to Sirius’ kiss. At least then he wouldn’t feel anything anymore. But as much as he hated Sirius, he still loved him, really. He never did manage to stop. He hated himself for holding these memories still, once so lovely and now so poisonous.

That night he rushed to his room after classes and guiltily used the secret passage from his Marauder days to get into Hogsmeade and drank himself into an absolute stupor at the Hogs Head. He stumbled back, stopping twice to throw up and narrowly missing his shoes both times, and fell into bed. The next morning he woke and felt like he was going to die. His absolute failure as a teacher was never more apparent when he showed up to breakfast looking like death warmed up, and McGonagall gave him a sympathetic yet judgmental glare. Only she could elicit a gaze that combined both of those sentiments at once. He avoided her eagle eyed glare and sculled his Pepper Up Potion, desperately trying to revive his brain so that his poor Third Year students could at least have a decent lesson.

Harry asked him if he was okay during class and he almost answered him truthfully. _I hadn’t been drunk in four and a half weeks and last night I went out and got absolutely bottled, and I’m paying for it now. Why did I do that, Harry? Well, my boyfriend murdered your dad and mum and also a lot of other people, and I’m a pathetic excuse for a human being and still miss him every single day, irrevocably, painfully so_.

Instead, he just took a huge swig of Pepper-up Potion and smiled gently back at him, making an excuse that he had been feeling poorly the previous few days. With his upcoming transformation, it wasn’t a total lie anyway. It still didn’t dull the absolute self-hatred that he felt for subjecting his students to his awful lessons, though for some reason they all seemed to like him rather a lot, much to Snape’s displeasure.

Remus heard Sirius’ name at least 5 times a day in the halls. He had been sighted in Hogsmeade, and the castle was abuzz with fear and excitement as to where he could be, what he could want. Remus didn’t know the answer to either of those things, and that thought should have filled him with dread, but it didn’t. He wasn’t scared at all, if he really thought about it. He was just ready for something to happen, anything. He was back to drinking nightly, and often wondered idly if Sirius was going to come and finish him off, murder him as well so he could have the complete set under his belt. He’d as good as done it 12 years ago anyway. Would be nice of him to come and finish the job, really. Anything would be better than the torture of his current existence.

Remus was in his living quarters, and was, as was customary on a Friday night – or maybe it was a Tuesday night? – getting drunk. Black had broken in to Hogwarts the previous week, and the whole castle was on edge. Remus was drinking regularly again, his only shred of willpower gone as he couldn’t bear the thought of his lover, the love of his life, sharing Hogwarts castle with him once again, this time their souls as far apart as they could possibly be instead of intertwined.

“This is where our love lives, Moony. It’ll always be here, in the ink – you see?” Sirius whispered to Remus once. He could really be romantic if he tried, and he pointed at the map they were working on together, and leaned over to kiss Remus, winding a hand through his hair as the map lay forgotten beside them on the ground.

He was more hurt than anything that Sirius hadn’t tried to seek him out yet to be completely truthful, and that thought really solidified that he had indeed lost the plot. He was a mass murderer for Merlin’s sake. But had Remus ever truly believed that?

Remus had never felt more pathetic and unmoored than when Dumbledore came knocking with a message that changed Remus’ whole life; that Sirius was innocent and that Peter most certainly was not. He had to take a day off classes when he found out what had really happened, curled in his bed with a bottle of wine, unblinkingly staring at the ceiling and re-thinking the last 12 years and what it all meant now. A week after he went back to work, no other than Sirius Black himself came for him, delicate, bruised knuckles knocking at his door. Remus was so blind drunk that he could barely stand. There Sirius stood, gorgeous as ever, in the door of Remus’ living quarters. Remus’ first thought was that his coffee table was a mess, and had the good grace to be embarrassed for Sirius to see his house like that. His second thought was that this had happened before. He’d been so drunk he’d seen, actually seen Sirius, lying in bed next to him, almost feeling his phantom touch. Faced with this memory, and the very real looking Sirius in his doorway, combined with the amount of alcohol he had consumed and the ridiculousness of being worried about his coffee table, his first reaction was to giggle.

“Hi,” he said sarcastically, laughing pathetically again. The drunkenly conjured angel frowned, marring his perfect skin. How does someone have perfect skin after twelve years in Azkaban? Because he wasn’t real, that’s why. Remus started to wonder that maybe even Dumbledore’s conversation had been a figment of his imagination as well, that he had never even knocked on his door in the first place. If this Sirius was real, he was probably here to kill him, finally.

“Moony?” The apparition said, and it sounded so real that Remus paused, and came to the conclusion that he must have actually started to lose his mind. It had been a long time coming, really. He shook his head, cursing his brain and trying to clear the torturous image of his former lover standing in his door, and just ended up making himself quite dizzy.

Sirius slowly took a few steps forward, unsure. Strange. His imaginary Sirius had never moved before. Remus blinked again. Were those…tattoos? This Sirius was strange, and he looked older than he usually did in Remus’ memory. The last time they had seen each other they had been in their early 20’s and so Remus’ memory of his boyfriend was stuck there forever, like a starving dog and wolf, teeth bared mid-lunge and frozen in place under ice. Sirius touched his shoulder and Remus’ blood went cold, and his gaze flew up to meet Sirius’. He reached out blearily and touched the figure before him. This felt far more real than anything he had experienced when drinking before, and it was starting to make him feel a bit out of sorts.

As he touched Sirius, his hand met solid flesh and bone. He blinked once again, the bottom of his stomach dropping out. He could barely focus on the face in front of him.

“S-Sirius?” he slurred. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Moony, are you drunk?” he said, a trace of amusement in his scratchy voice. Remus decided this was too real for him to be imagining it, and with the thought of Sirius Black, the real Sirius Black having broken out of prison, being proven innocent and currently before him in his flat, touching his shoulder and standing corporeally _in his flat_ , he promptly pitched forward and vomited all over his shoes.

Sirius’ arms came out to grab him as he stumbled forward and fell before he could stop himself, and he had to laugh again. Usually it had been the other way around, Sirius being picked up off the floor in various states by Remus after nights out with James and Lily. But times had changed. Everything had changed. He looked up into those familiar, grey eyes, almost the same as they were years ago, but tainted with a little more of that wild Black madness piercing through them. With that, his eyes closed and he blacked out entirely.

Remus awoke to a pounding headache and a mercifully empty bed. Shuffling to the kitchen in a hung-over daze, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted last night to have been an incredibly realistic dream, or not. Before he could make up his mind he spied Sirius, sleeping draped over the threadbare couch as Padfoot, far skinnier than before but still just as ethereally beautiful. He stood quickly and transformed back into his human form, grey eyes a little colder than how Remus remembered them. His eyes had always betrayed him, and Remus could read all of his emotions through them. No one, even someone as sunny and fierce and powerful as Sirius could escape Azkaban unscathed, and Remus supposed this was one of the things that may be different about the man stood before him, awkward and nervous.

Sirius didn’t say anything as Remus threw on his robes and ate a piece of dry toast, washing it down with a strong Pepper-Up Potion. He taught distractedly all day, thinking of whether Sirius would still be in his quarters when he returned back that evening – he supposed he didn’t really have anywhere else to go. It was so surreal and Remus couldn’t help himself but soothe himself with plenty of Hagrid’s mead at dinner, despite McGonagall’s disapproving looks, so that by the time he walked back to his room he was quite drunk.

Sirius jumped up from the couch when he opened his door, and he leaned unsteadily against the door jamb, filled with a liquid confidence, and a million other emotions tangled with it - confusion and anger and hurt and want. He’d been planning how their conversation would go all day, but what came out of his mouth was decidedly not it.

“Well, I suppose that you’ve come here with an expectation, then? Want to see if it’ll live up to how good it used to be?” Remus said, lightly, laughing wryly into his bottle of mead. When he looked up it had been snatched from his hands.

“You’re so drunk, Moons, again,” Sirius said, shaking his head and looking at him in concern. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Well, welcome to my life since you’ve been gone,” Remus said, trying to joke but Sirius didn’t laugh.

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius said quietly, unable to meet Remus’ eyes. Remus couldn’t even believe this was happening, and didn’t know what to say. They stared at each other for what felt like minutes. Sorry wasn’t going to be enough, but he knew it was all Sirius could give him. He had a lot to be sorry about too.

“I’ll suck you off if you like,” he said weakly into the silence, just to try and make things less awkward. He couldn’t really think of any other reason as to why Sirius would be here. It had been 12 years and he was an absolute mess, a trainwreck. Sirius would be here to get his rocks off and then move on with his life, he supposed. He thought Sirius was going to sigh and admonish him for being vulgar, but instead his eyes flickered shut and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Remus didn’t think he could use words to express himself right now, so he would have to just show him. He breathed out shakily, waiting.

“As much as I would bloody love to take you up on that offer Remus, I can’t do that right now – you’re way too drunk and I don’t think we should rush into anything consideri - ” he never finished what he was saying as Remus had already gotten up, eyes heavily lidded from a sudden onslaught of unrestrained, deep lust, and wound his arms around Sirius’ neck, sucking a deep mark into it. He couldn’t wait any longer, and his self-preservation didn’t really exist at all these days. He tended to drink so he could just act on his impulses rather than think about them too much, and this situation was no exception. Sirius moaned and half-heartedly tried to push him away, but Remus moved upwards, kissing the sensitive spot just behind his left ear before cradling his face and staring deep into his eyes before kissing him. Sirius resisted for only a second and then apparently gave up his resolve completely and kissed back almost violently. He never could say no to Remus. It had been twelve years and he couldn’t control his lust or his volume, moaning shamelessly into Remus’ mouth as he fumbled blindly for the zip of Remus’ trousers. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about how embarrassingly needy or forward he was being, just needed Remus to fill him up whichever way possible, to fill the aching, huge space their separation had left in him.

“Fuck, Moony” he breathed, and Remus let out a ragged sigh into his sharp collarbone, where he was currently marking his territory amongst the ugly ink of his Azkaban brand, his prison number. Sirius had always been told he was handsome, gorgeous even, by everyone around him. But only Remus could make him feel beautiful just with his mouth, his eyes. Not even the permanent branding on his skin from twelve years of pain and abuse could disgust Remus, who still looked at Sirius like he worshipped him, like he was heaven on earth.

Sirius dropped to his knees, beginning to unbuckle Remus’ worn belt, looking up into his eyes, dark with lust, and released him before taking Remus into his mouth immediately, non-existent gag reflex as absent as ever. Remus gasped sharply, and then shook his head weakly, pulling Sirius’ head away by his hair, sharp and caring all at the same time. He’d changed his mind. He couldn’t do this. He was feeling too much that he wasn’t allowed to feel.

“Moony, just, let me do this for you, _please,_ ” he gasped, looking absolutely wrecked and lovely with a string of spit obscenely connecting Remus’ cock still to Sirius’ warm, welcome mouth. This wasn’t how he had wanted this to go, but neither of them had really ever had much control when it came to their kinetic, intense energy. They hadn’t even really spoken yet, but could only really convey how sorry and hurt they both were by doing things this way. Sirius was innocent and guilty all at the same time, and Remus was guilty of needing a corporeal reminder of how Sirius felt wrapped up in him. It had been twelve years. Twelve years of wanting someone he had thought was a murderer, but still loved anyway. Remus couldn’t even find it in himself to say no at this point. The only thing he was worried about was lasting more than five seconds as he received an intimate reminder of how well suited Sirius was to him, cock enveloped in that white hot searing dream that was Sirius Black’s mouth. Sirius mouthed his way back up to Remus’ neck, pausing there to ravage the scars that had accumulated since he had been gone, and then kissing him again fiercely.

Something on Remus’ face was wet and he couldn’t tell if it was his tears, or Sirius’ or a mixture of both. Twelve years of them. Remus hadn’t cried once for the past twelve years, and here this stupid man was, in front of him kneeling and crying and just staring at him and that was all it took.

“Moony…” Sirius breathed before enveloping him again, and Remus was still not convinced that he wasn’t dreaming. He threw his head back and moaned, trying to clear his mind of the fog that he had so desperately craved the past twelve years and for the first time wished that he wasn’t drunk. Even still, through the haze in his brain he could feel every nerve ending in his entire body reacting to Sirius’ touch; the very nerves he had been trying to numb as long as he could remember. Sirius simply awoke him. He knew that loving someone this deeply was silly and ridiculous and co-dependent and dangerous and so, so quixotic and wonderful and he just couldn’t stop himself.

“This is what I thought about in Azkaban,” Sirius breathed against his hip, touching him so reverently Remus thought he might finally die. “When I needed to remember happy things…all I ever thought of was you, Moony. _My Moony_ ” he whispered, brokenly pressing kisses against every part of Remus he could get his mouth on.

He stood slowly, staring at Remus like he was an actual god, even though he was still halfway drunk, and thin and wasted away and more scarred in every way than when Sirius had left him. “Moony, please, I need to feel you,” he begged, and Remus sucked in a breath and committed. He’d been holding out for some reason but he knew that he was just a slave to Sirius, really, and having him there, really there after twelve years, halfway undressed and begging to be fucked and Remus couldn’t resist.

He stepped forward and pushed Sirius roughly against the door. They hadn’t even made it into the bedroom proper before they reacquainted with one another, but then again they had always been desperate for each other, fucking like it was the last time they would get the chance; passionate and intense and nothing short of earth shattering. The kind of love that ruined you for absolutely anyone else, a knife’s edge at the end of a road, straight off the edge of a cliff.

Fumbling with their shirts and ripping two of Sirius’ buttons off in the process, they both just stared at each other for a moment, Remus cradling Sirius’ face in his hands, staring at the love of his life, who he had seen only in unwanted dreams for so long. Older but no less gorgeous, Remus’ heart stuttered like he was 15 years old again and crushing on Sirius as he sat across from him, seeing him flirt and wink at girls and wishing so desperately it was directed at him. It reminded him of frantic fumbling in Remus’ bed at 16 after smoking too much gillyweed, getting each other off and giggling into each other’s mouths, and James yelling at them to keep it down as Sirius, shameless as he was, would moan ridiculously loudly without an ounce of self control every time Remus got on top of him to take him.

Remus crowded Sirius up against the door and Sirius breathed out, eyes nearly black with untamed lust and need, almost fainting with the desperation he felt to be controlled by Remus once again.

“Turn around,” Remus growled, and he did so as Remus gripped his hips and proceeded to open him up torturously slowly, wrenching him apart bit by bit with slicked fingers.

“R-Remus, Remus, Remus,” Sirius chanted over and over, stuttered by broken, loud moans.

“Still as loud as ever I see,” Remus whispered in reply, and Sirius shivered, pushing back into Remus as far as he could.

“Moony, please fuck me,” he begged, and Remus finally obliged, pushing into him and enveloping himself inside Sirius.

“Jesus, you’re so tight,” he groaned, and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from coming immediately. It was absolutely torturous, the slowness, Sirius just wanted to be torn apart by Remus, and once he was buried to the hilt Sirius grabbed his hips and urged him to move.

“Move, g-god, please, please – harder, f-fuck, that’s it,” Sirius breathed out brokenly as Remus pounded into him and suddenly without warning hit his prostate. Sirius cried out, head hitting the door as they found a broken, desperate rhythm. Remus was grunting with every harsh push into him, and Sirius knew he was close; neither of them was going to last very long considering how much time had passed since they had last been together, or with anyone for that matter.

“Don’t…stop” Sirius choked out as he gripped himself to hold off his impending orgasm before Remus had come inside him. He wanted to be filled up, to be marked, and as he started to feel Remus stutter and cry out, he shut his eyes and threw his head back let the wave of bliss roll over him and utterly drown him. He could hear himself moaning obscenely almost from outside his body and he lost vision for a moment as it hit him harder than maybe it ever had. Remus was panting behind him, head resting on Sirius’ shoulder as he caught his breath, stunned and suddenly dizzy and feeling far too much to use any words at that moment. Sirius gently turned himself around once he felt Remus pull out from inside him, and looked up into the amber eyes that had both comforted and tortured him every single time he closed his eyes in that godforsaken prison. The moment was so intense and so emotionally charged that they both started laughing at the ridiculousness of what had just happened, and then Remus was suddenly crying, properly crying, his slightly maniacal laughter morphing into the tears that had been threatening to fall for all this time.

“God, Moony”, Sirius whispered, choked up by tears and unspoken promises held for years against his heart despite the Dementors constant effort to break them away from him and suck Remus out of his soul forever.

“I can’t live without you,” he breathed. “All this time, I’ve - ”

Remus broke then, gripping Sirius too tight and pulling him impossibly closer.

“You came back,” he sobbed brokenly into Sirius’ shoulder, the sharp bones there a reminder of what Sirius had been through and survived for him. “You came back,” he whimpered again, and he could feel tears in his hair and on his neck from Sirius as well. All of a sudden he was realising what a shell of a person he had become, and how much time he had wasted and how stupid he had been.

They really couldn’t live without one another, but he didn’t need to worry about that now. Sirius came back. He came back. Remus took a deep breath and life started again. He felt like he had been seeing in black and white this whole time and all of a sudden the colour had burst back in, blinding him and wrecking him thoroughly and in the best possible way. He gave a wet, teary laugh at how ridiculous and intense this was, and gently lifted Sirius’ head from where it rested on his shoulder, and sniffled before he took him by both cheeks and kissed him, fervently, perfectly, trying to make up for lost time, twelve whole years of it in one short moment. It was wet and teary and they were both laughing and crying at the same time now, but nothing could compare to how sweet their reunion was, how complete they both felt. Their demons hadn’t gone anywhere, but suddenly faced with both of them there to fight them, they now had far more of a chance.

Remus’ head was still pounding and he stumbled from his bedroom a few hours later, to find Sirius emptying the last of his Firewhiskey down the drain. He went to weakly protest but Sirius just turned around and looked at him and he lost his nerve. That goddamn stare just got to him, got to his very core like no one else could ever do. Even twelve years in prison couldn’t dull Sirius’ sharp jaw, the flint grey of his eyes, the steely gaze and hard lines and powerful fire in his very being that he was made from. It was like his hands just reached straight into Remus’ chest and squeezed, binding him and anchoring him and letting him free at the same time. He knew that this much dependence on one person was dangerous, and foolish, and completely ridiculous, but Sirius was the end of the line for him. They both knew it.

“Why are you doing this,” Remus mumbled as Sirius tucked him up with a blanket, a cool flannel for his fever from withdrawals, and a bucket in case he needed to throw up.

“Making up for lost time, Moony,” Sirius said, softly, and he reached for Remus’ hand, stroking the deep ocean veins that drifted just below the calm surface.

“I thought you’d done it”, Remus whispered hoarsely. “I couldn’t believe it at first, but I made myself believe. It was easier to try and hate you. But I never quite could,” he said quietly, self-loathing in his voice.

Sirius laughed humorlessly back. “Yes, well, I believed you were the spy before I knew it was Peter. So we both have one strike against us. I think that makes us even,” he attempted a light tone but Remus could clearly hear the pain behind it. He closed his eyes. “I caused this situation for you, Remus, and we both know that you aren’t very good at taking care of yourself. You need me, just like I need you. I think through this huge fucking mess we’ve at least learned that. I can’t guarantee that things are going to be normal in the slightest, but I’m just – I just love you, alright?” Sirius’ eyes were shiny, and he pressed a kiss to Remus’ shaking hand, lacing their fingers together.

Remus huffed out a laugh before shivering. “You’re still a sap, Black, nothing’s changed really,” he said weakly. Sirius didn’t respond, just gently wiped the sheen of sweat from Remus’ face and settled into the couch, arms encircling him. Even in the throes of severe withdrawal, he hadn’t felt this safe since Sirius had last been here. Remus was an intellectual, not a romantic (or so he told himself), but Sirius really was his guardian angel. He cringed even saying it to himself but their lives were so intertwined that neither could survive without the other. Their torturous time apart could attest to that. He didn’t intend for them to have to survive without each other any longer though.

“I love you,” he breathed brokenly in reply, and Sirius looked away. Remus could almost see his heart struggling to maintain a rhythm; he thought maybe he was about to go into cardiac arrest. He could see the Prophet now. ‘ _Local Man Dies After Reunion with Wrongly Convicted Mass Murderer Who Happens to Also Be The Love of His Life_ ’.

“I don’t deserve you, Moony. I didn’t trust you, and then I just left you for twelve years thinking that I had killed them – I would never, Merlin I could never,” he broke down, face twisted into something pained and awful as he cried in Remus’ arms.

“I need a damn drink”, croaked Remus, trying to make it seem like a joke but he really, really did need a drink.

“I got through twelve years of Azkaban for you, Moony, knowing you were still out here after all that time,” he whispered against the fever stricken skin of Remus’ chest. “So I’m not going to just let you waste away on me and make a mess of your life,” he said decisively, stroking Remus’ damp curls back from his forehead.

Remus’ head pounded even harder and he groaned, and Sirius gripped his hand tight.

“We’ll get through this, my Moonshine. I know you can do it,” he kissed Remus chastely and left the room to make tea. Yorkshire, black with one sugar. Nothing had really changed, after all this time, had it? Remus smiled a little into his pillow. Drenched in sweat and heaving his guts up for the next few days didn’t sound at all appealing, but an eternity with Sirius Black certainly did. Even if he wasn’t doing it for anything else, Sirius was enough of a reason for him to get to his feet, drag himself out of bed, and start living once again.

 

                                    ----------six months later----------

 

Remus took off his coat and scarf and wrapped it around the coat rack, smiling as he heard Sirius’ awful, off key singing coming from the other room. He walked up to him and wound his arms tightly around Sirius’ middle. He turned, delighted. “Hello, Moony,” Sirius grinned, planting a kiss on Remus’ lips, “how was work?”

“It was good, darling,” Remus said, running his hands up Sirius’ side, shucking up his t-shirt to place his fingers on the soft skin over his ribs there. “We did boggarts today” he said, and Sirius chuckled.

“Good thing I wasn’t there, because mine would have been me having to wait another twelve years to get fucked into the wall by -”

“Sirius Black!!” Remus admonished, cutting him off as a pink blush coloured his high cheekbones. “I’m certainly glad you weren’t there either! You are absolutely filthy, do you know that?”

Sirius smirked at him, pulling him closer. “I certainly do,” he said, eyes narrowing as he grinned and fitting his hand at the small of Remus’ back as he leant up to kiss him, open-mouthed. It didn’t take long for things to get hot and heavy, and Sirius licked into Remus’ mouth with a quiet moan and Remus’ grip on his hips tightened as he ground against him, erection bulging from beneath his trousers. Sirius whined as Remus pulled back, out of breath, looking disappointed.

“Not now, Padfoot,” he admonished. “Harry will be here for dinner any minute now, and we wouldn’t want him to catch us in…” he paused, inching forward and palming hard at the front of Sirius’ jeans where there was an obvious bulge “such a compromising position, would we?” he finished sweetly, and Sirius hissed in pleasure and frustration.

“I suppose not,” he ground out as Remus smirked at him, then grabbed his hand. “Later,” he promised, with one last chaste kiss.

“Alright,” Sirius grumbled, “I suppose I’d better let you get your way seeing as this dinner is for your being six months sober and all…but I’ll make sure I congratulate you properly later, just to show you how proud I really am of you,” he said, licking his lips as Remus shook his head incredulously, smiling.

For now, he was just happy to see Harry, and with the promise of what ‘later’ would entail tucked safely in his heart, he let Remus march him into the kitchen to start preparing the potatoes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, and sorry for this being so emotionally intense. I was given a prompt and thought I would try and write the saddest thing I could while I was in a sad mood, but give it a happy ending. Love you all, and thanks again for reading I appreciate it SO MUCH!!


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